


Stolen Clothes.

by 2kitsune



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, C137cest, Fingering, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation with Clothing, Mutual Pining, Not Beta Read, Not Underage, Original Morty, Original Rick, Pining, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 15:36:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13720719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2kitsune/pseuds/2kitsune
Summary: “Morty! Can you go upstairs and pick up any of Rick’s dirty clothing?”Morty bends and begins picking up Rick’s dirty blue shirts, and then begins picking up Rick’s dirty boxers too. Just picking them up sends an odd thrum through Morty’s veins. Finished, Morty quickly exits Rick’s room and closes the door behind himself to head back downstairs. However, something makes him pause outside his own bedroom door, gaze flitting from the pile of clothing in his arms to his door and back before he shakes his head and continues downstairs. And if one of those pairs of boxers just magically somehow ended up just inside his door, unbeknownst to Morty or not, that’s not his fault.





	Stolen Clothes.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing RAM fanfic, so please be nice. Also Morty is aged up to 16yrso in this, so he's of legal age.

“Morty! Can you go upstairs and pick up any of Rick’s dirty clothing?”

 

Morty sighs, pausing before calling back. “Why can’t Grandpa Rick get his own dirty clothing?” He was watching Ball Fondlers on the interdimensional cable, and it was just getting too a good part that Morty didn’t really want to miss if he didn’t have too. Not to mention that he had just had a very long day at school, filled with bullying and embarrassing himself by tripping over right in front of Jessica.

 

“Because Grandpa Rick is passed out drunk in the garage, I couldn’t wake him up if I tried and trust me I did try.” Beth calls back from the kitchen, just a touch of impatience in her tone. It was enough though for Morty to know that if he didn’t do as she asked, he would find himself without his laptop or TV privileges soon enough.

 

Morty sighs, mumbling “Fine.” As he reaches for the remote. At least he can still pause interdimensional cable, so it’s not like he was really going to miss anything. He pads around the couch, ignoring Beth’s call of;

 

“Thank you, sweetie!” Before starting up the stairs, passed the picture frames on the wall, passed Beth’s room, passed Summers room, and passed his own room until he was standing outside of Rick’s bedroom. As usual the ‘Do not Enter’ sign is in its perpetual state of crooked, Morty had fixed it so many times only to find it crooked once more when he next looks at it, but Morty completely ignores it as he pushes the door open and exposes the dark room that was Rick – the only light being a faint green glow from his experiments.

 

Morty steps over the thresh-hold and waits for his eyes to adjust before gasping at the mess on the ground. If he thought his room was a mess, Rick’s room was something else. Not only were there empty alcohol bottles all over the floor, the still full ones on Rick’s bedside table and desk and crammed onto the small shelves, but it was also littered with Rick’s signature blue shirts and dirty underwear. His lab coat seems to be the only article of clothing that Rick owns that he’s actually proud of, because one of the many that he had was hung on the hook screwed into the back of the door.

 

Regretting not grabbing a basket to put Rick’s clothing in Morty bends and begins picking up Rick’s dirty blue shirts, and then begins picking up Rick’s dirty boxers too. He finds socks underneath Rick’s bed that also need washing, and a couple of non- descript tank tops that he’s never seen Rick before hidden underneath his long-sleeved ones. Just picking them up sends an odd thrum through Morty’s veins, and he shakes his head to clear the immediate mental image of Rick wearing those tank tops with his collarbones and upper chest in view, quickly picking up the rest of Rick’s clothing to finish his task.

 

Finished, and not really wanting to get caught in here by a drunk Rick who would get mad that he was in here no matter how Morty tried to explain, Morty quickly exits Rick’s room and closes the door behind himself to head back downstairs. However, something makes him pause outside his own bedroom door, gaze flitting from the pile of clothing in his arms to his door and back before he shakes his head and continues downstairs.

 

And if one of those pairs of boxers just magically somehow ended up just inside his door, unbeknown to Morty or not, that’s not his fault.

 

-

 

The rest of the evening and all through dinner, Morty couldn’t keep still. He kept thinking about Rick’s boxers up in his room, the boxers that surely still had the heady musky scent of Rick on it, the boxers that Morty had purposely not allowed himself to smell when he had first picked the shirts up because he wanted to be able to have the full experience. His inability to keep still gets worse as they sit down for dinner and Rick sits right next to him, just having woken up from his alcohol induced sleep a half hour ago, but if his family notice anything else out of the ordinary they don’t say anything.

 

Morty kept himself from jumping up once he had finished eating. Instead he impatiently waited for everyone else to finish dinner, and then got up with Rick and Summer as they went to watch TV in the lounge while Beth started on the dishes. If he went to bed right now it would be too suspicious, it was only 7pm and he usually didn’t go to bed until midnight which was well passed when everyone else retired to their rooms – to either do their own things or go straight to sleep, and so Morty tried to ignore that butterflies in his stomach as he settled back on the couch between Summer and Rick and tried to get lost in whatever show Rick had picked.

 

Around ten Beth goes to bed. At half past eleven Summer goes to bed. And, at midnight, Rick burps and hauls himself off of the couch, slurs a goodnight in Morty’s direction, and heads upstairs to his room. Morty waits another half an hour, which works well because that’s when the episode of the show Rick had put on finished, something to do with squids and anime girls, before turning off the TV and pausing. The house is quiet, not even a mouse stirring, and Morty can barely keep the smile from his face as he pads upstairs to go to bed too.

 

He ignores the boxers as he gets ready for bed. The house stays quiet as he brushes his teeth, cleans his face, pees and flushes the toilet, before flicking off the light and heading back to his room where he firmly shuts his bedroom door behind him. Already in his boxers and a fresh yellow shirt, Morty headed straight for his bed and slid underneath the covers with the cotton black boxers already in his grip. The only light available was his bedside lamp, but even that was turned off as Morty settled back against the headboard with his duvet pushed down around his open legs, leaving his room almost pitch black save the light coming from the moon that streamed through his cracked open curtains.

 

With a final look at his door, he wasn’t allowed a lock on his door so Morty had to do with it just being shut and praying that no one would barge in whenever he was changing or jerking off, Morty slips one hand underneath the waistband of his own white underwear to palm at his chubbed member and get himself going. In the same moment Morty arranges the underwear flat over his other hand and raises it to his nose, and doesn’t pause at all before inhaling as deeply as he could.

 

Immediately the rich, musky scent of Rick fills his head and overwhelms him, making his cock embarrassingly hard in an embarrassingly short time, pre- cum leaking from the tip and creating a wet patch against his boxer shorts. Unable to keep back his noises Morty moans, high pitched and needy, and inhales deeper and deeper until his head is swimming with the scent of Rick’s musky scent. It was fucked up, beyond fucked up, to steal his Grandpa’s dirty underwear and smell them as he jerked off. Additionally, it was also fucked up for him to be attracted to his Grandpa to start with.

 

“R- rick,” Morty whines, the sound muffled by the cotton over his nose and mouth. “Oh fuck, please.” His pleading is accompanied by the wet sound of his pre-cum and his hand, which seems far too loud in the silence of his bedroom, in the silence of the house. Rick’s room was literally on the other side of the wall from him, but that doesn’t stop Morty from rolling his cock into the circle of his hand and ripping another high- pitched whine from himself. Rick was probably passed out anyway from drinking too much earlier, and most likely wouldn’t hear anything.

 

Morty speeds up the pace of his hand as he breathes in again, and the stimulation of pausing to thumb over the head of his cock to swipe at his pre-cum and smear it over the rest of his cock makes Morty huff and loll his head back; Rick’s boxers still firmly pressed over his nose and mouth. The slick sounds fuel his fantasies, and when he closes his eyes and breathes in again he can imagine that the sounds are coming from Rick fucking him like Morty wish he would. Morty had imagined that many times, imagined Rick bending him over in the garage, bending him over the kitchen table, bending him over the couch and fucking him so hard and so deep that Morty wouldn’t be able to walk properly for weeks, nor would he be able to speak from all the screaming and moaning of Rick’s name that would surely come to fruition if Rick fucked him like that.

 

As Morty rolls his hips next he feels an additional burst of pleasure, one that zings down his spine and right out to the tips of his fingers and his toes, only adding to the curling in his stomach. Another deep breath of Rick’s scent makes the feeling stronger, almost unbearable, the curl of in his lower abdomen making his eyelids flutter, and it makes his whole-body shudder and quake. Being sixteen meant he still didn’t have much stamina, even after two years of jerking off every day, and so Rick’s musky scent was overwhelming, enough so that he could cum if he just stroked that little bit harder.

 

“Fuck, Grandpa Rick,” Morty rolls his hips up in a more desperate manner, feeling a shiver go down his spine at the slick sounds. “Rick ~” He mewls, feeling the curl of arousal grow in his lower stomach as he inhales deeply again, the musky scent of Rick continuously going straight to his head. At this point he doesn’t care if he was heard, although Morty was under the impression that Rick was downstairs passed out in his garage, not to mention that Beth’s and Summer’s rooms were possibly too far away to tell him even when he was being too loud.

 

Morty looks down at himself to watch in morbid fascination at his hand wrapped around his cock, and the shine of the pre-cum slicking his inner palm and shaft, and bites his lip as he strokes harder and faster at himself, letting himself go with reckless abandon. A further sniff of Rick’s underwear has his dick twitching, throbbing underneath his hand, and the pressure is coiling and coiling and coiling in his stomach, streaking him towards the end already.

 

Suddenly it’s too much. Too much friction, along with the husky scent of Rick surrounding him, racing Morty to the end far too quickly and he bucks up into his hand, praying it’s not too much to throw himself over the edge, continuing until there’s white lights behind his eyes and he’s trembling, until he’s right on the precipice, before suddenly jerking his hand away from his cock. There’s a couple of seconds where his cock throbs, twitching by itself, and Morty’s almost sure that he was going to cum untouched, that he had bought himself too close to the edge and wouldn’t be able to back off, but then the pleasure subsides, and his cock gives a sad sort of throb before settling back against his stomach; the skin under the head instantly slick with his own juices.

 

Breathing in deeply, with Rick’s underwear away from his nose and mouth, enough so that his chest is heaving, Morty looked between the boxers and his cock and the boxers again. Immediately a thought crossed his mind, and slowly Morty switched Rick’s underwear to the hand that was wrapped around his cock. As Morty wrapped the material around his cock he paused, immediately feeling a curl in his stomach from the sight of Rick’s boxers around his erection, knowing that this wasn’t how boxers were supposed to be used; and even more so that these were Rick’s. The taboo of it all amounting to his arousal.

 

Hesitantly Morty slowly strokes up, and immediately lets out a needy whine at the feeling of the fabric against his heated skin. It was ten time better than just using his hand, and seeing as he was already oversensitive and so close to the edge just from using his hand this new feeling was almost too much. The feeling makes him loll his head back, unable to do anything more than rest his head against the wall and moan and beg for Rick.

 

Still, it wasn’t enough, Morty wanted more. As he realized that, Morty had another thought and was quick to cease stroking himself and shuffling down on his bed, kicking away the blankets, until he was laying on his side. Stroking slowly, Morty pushed his free fingers into his mouth and loudly began sucking on them, sliding his tongue around each digit until they were absolutely soaked, making sure not to stroke himself too hard and cum before his plan could come to fruition. In his head he imagined it was Rick’s large cock in his mouth, he had ‘accidentally’ seen Rick naked enough times to know that his grandpa was still packing, and sucked at them even harder – getting off on the pseudo blowjob.

 

Satisfied that his fingers were sufficiently soaked, Morty pulls his fingers from his mouth and presses his fingertips together before watching in awe at the string of saliva that connects them as he pulls his fingers apart again, squirming at the arousal it brings throughout his body. Shifting a little more Morty doesn’t waste any more time and brings that hand behind him, tracing one of the fingers around his puckered entrance to tease himself. He had done this a couple of times before, mostly in the shower where the water drowned out his eager moans, and it had never failed to bring him to orgasm quickly and harshly – in fact they were the strongest orgasms he had ever had.

 

The moan Morty lets out as he slowly pushes his pointer finger inside of himself is embarrassingly loud, reverberating against his plain walls, but Morty doesn’t stop at just his fingertip and pushes his whole finger inside of himself right to his first knuckle.  Hesitantly, once his finger was fully inside of him, at which Morty didn’t feel any pain to do, the teenager started a slow and hesitant pace with both his finger and the hand over his own leaking cock. Looking down at himself, at the head of his cock appearing and disappearing in the circle he’s created with Rick’s boxers, the cotton just the perfect amount of friction against his sensitive skin, and does a full body shudder at the sight. There’s something about this being taboo, plus him using Rick’s underwear as he was, marking them with his own scent and his fluids – and eventually his cum – that made Morty’s pleasure double – triple even.

 

Having bought himself so close to his orgasm to start with, obviously stopping just before he went over the edge, it was embarrassing how quickly the pleasure intensified. This made Morty twitch and roll his hips to press his cock into Rick’s underwear more, and to press himself back against his own fingers, whining in the back of his throat as he sped up the pace of fucking himself and fucking into Rick’s underwear.

 

“Grand daddy,” Morty presses a second finger inside of himself, right alongside the first, relishing how it just slips inside him so easily. He begins scissoring, opening up his entrance, and imagines that it’s Rick’s fingers that are pressing deep inside of him, that are stretching him open, readying Morty for his cock. “Fuck – Rick. Please, please, please.” Oh fuck, he’s already so close, the coil of arousal and the pressure in his lower stomach growing by the second, he definitely wasn’t going to last if he kept this up.

 

Wanting to feel as much as he could before this ended, Morty desperately picked up the pace, pushing his two fingers inside of himself at a lewd pace, pressing harder and faster, and moving his hand over his cock so fast it was almost painful even with the amount of slick on his member. Still, there was something more, and Morty slowed the hand on his cock in favour for crooking his fingers, searching along his inner walls for something-

 

“Rick!” Oh god, he had found it, and it immediately makes him shake and arch into the feeling. From the brief research he had done online Morty knew it was called a prostate, but he hadn’t been lucky in finding it each time he tried this, having to rely solely on the pleasure of his hand on his cock. This time though Morty could rely on both, and with renewed vigour he pressed his digits back inside of himself at the same angle and let out a loud whine when he hits his prostate dead on, making his whole body tingle. He was so close, so close, just a little more and he would be done.

 

Trying to get a better angle, as well as experimenting a little considering he had never been able to hit prostate before, Morty lifts his upper leg and gives himself the better angle he wanted, shuddering at the new openness it brings and as Morty thrusts his fingers desperately inside of himself it increases his pleasure tenfold. Stroking faster at this dick, feeling the cotton stutter against his sticky cock, it was quickly becoming too much, and Morty suddenly found himself past the point of return as he raced to completion.

 

  
He grows closer, stroking faster and fucking himself harder with his fingers, pressing right against his prostate each time, adding pressure by rolling his hips to meet the thrust of his fingers. Like this he races closer, and closer, and closer to the precipice, breath stuttering and face red from the strain of which he was getting himself off, sweat shining on his forehead and making his skin – making his shirt stick to him.

 

One more rough thrust against his prostate and it was over. “Fuck, Rick!” He yells far too loudly, loud enough for the other members of the family to have heard, as he paints white stripes all over his yellow shirt and he has enough pent up for his cum to hit his chin, his seed also getting all over Rick’s underwear. Shuddering makes him unable to retract his fingers, and the pressure against his oversensitive prostate makes his entire body loose strength through his orgasm, white exploding from behind his eyes before he collapses back against his bed.

 

It takes a while for the white to disappear from behind his eyes, and Morty blinks it away as he stares up at his ceiling. There’s no strength in his body as he lies, collapsed, against his bed, and Morty’s arm shakes from the effort to lift his hips and pull his fingers out of his abused hole – wincing as he does so. Once that’s finally clear Morty lets himself lie there, wiping his fingers absently against his sheets before slinging that arm over his abdomen and slowly getting his laboured breathing back under control, the sweat on his body quickly cooling.

 

Suddenly guilt floods Morty’s body. He was such a fuck up to be jerking off over Rick, his grandpa, not to mention stealing his underwear to help him get off further. Still as Morty slowly pulls his hand away from his cock, the fabric still in his hand, the shine of his cum against the light blue material sets off a strange pang in his stomach. It was wrong, this entire thing was, but his own cum on an article of clothing that his cum wasn’t supposed to be on, was beyond arousing.

 

Morty stares at the boxers for a little longer before rolling onto his side and stuffing them blindly underneath his mattress, feeling around the area once he had finished to make sure the boxers were completely underneath the mattress and completely out of sight. The last thing he needed was for Beth to find them when she came in her to pick up his dirty laundry, let alone Rick who frequently broke into Morty’s room to snoop when he was drunk or under the influence of drugs; only for Morty to come home to find things either missing from his room, normally it was his porn mags but stranger things had also disappeared, sometimes as well as a passed out Rick on his bed.

 

With the boxers hidden under his mattress, and a hastily thrown away shirt that quickly added to the growing pile of dirty clothing in the corner of his room, Morty pulls up his blankets and settles down to fall asleep. It doesn’t take him long, and Morty quickly surrenders to sleep feeling satiated and thoughts of Rick in his head.

 

-

 

A room away Rick stares at the glowing stars on his ceiling, a blush across his cheeks and a growing hardness in his slacks that he absentmindedly presses a palm against just to relieve a little pressure. Morty had been louder than usual, and Rick would have had to be deaf to not hear the way Morty was calling his name – yelling it almost – in the throes of pleasure. He would have also had to be far dumber than he was to not miss how in the pile of clean underwear Beth had bought back just before bed, that there was a pair missing. And now, with the obvious sounds from Morty’s room and the way he had been calling Rick’s name like that, Rick could only conclude that that was where his missing pair of underwear had gone.

 

Alcohol numbs Rick’s thought process, but still he feels a little guilty as he slides his hand underneath the waistband of his slacks to wrap his fingers around his quickly growing cock. The guilt is quickly overridden, however, after a few quick strokes to bring his cock to full hardness, pre-cum leaking out over his hand. He cums like that, with quick and frantic strokes and bit back moans of his grandson’s name – of Morty’s name – with his sheets kicked off down to the end of his bed and his slacks hastily pulled down to free his cock, cum striped all the way up his bare chest up to the hallow between his collarbones; Morty’s name muffled into the back of Rick’s free hand.

 

He falls asleep with a bottle bought halfway to his mouth, his hand still down his pants and gripping his soft member and the evidence of his release still shining against his heated skin.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading ! Please leave a KUDOS and a COMMENT if you would like! Thanks again. 
> 
> Here is my Tumblr if you would like to come chat to me, or just see posts about new fics that might be up- and coming and such; 2kitsuneao3


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